Before Darcy could even process what had happened, he was knocked to the ground,nding in a pathetic, undignified heap.


    “Bet, you dare hit me!" Darcy sat on the floor, staring at Bet in disbelief.


    The Rogers family was not as powerful as the Thompsons, so Mr. Thompson hitting Darcy would have been one thing. But today was Mrs. Thompson''s birthday, and for Bet to cause a scene at his own mother''s party was reckless.


    Murmurs began to ripple through the onlookers.


    Emma, who hade upstairs with some friends, saw the whole thing.


    “Bet, what''s going on?"


    Bet didn''t answer. He shot a cold re at Darcy, then swept Yvonne up into his arms and strode toward the guest rooms, ordering a servant to call a doctor as he went.


    Thomas and Ynda, who were justing up the stairs, saw Bet''s retreating back as he carried a woman away, both of them lookingpletely bewildered.


    “Mrs. Thompson, what happened?" Ynda asked, her eyes full of confusion as she walked to Emma''s side.


    Emma''s face was cold, and she didn''t reply.


    Just then, Noah and Karina hurried over.


    Karina saw the toppled cake tower and Darcy just getting to his feet, assuming he had identally knocked it over.


    She directed servants to clean up the mess while saying to Darcy, “It''s just a small ident, Mr. Rogers. I hope you weren''t hurt."


    Darcy''s cheek was already numb with pain. His face grim, he turned and stalked downstairs.


    Karina was leftpletely baffled.


    "Karina, where''s Yvonne? I don''t see her," Thomas asked, his eyes scanning the hall.


    "I don''t know. She was sitting here eating cake a minute ago. Maybe she went to the restroom,” Karina replied dismissively.


    She had been so engrossed in her conversation with the otherdies that she hadn''t paid any attention to Yvonne.


    Thomas pursed his lips. He didn''t say anything, but his displeasure was obvious.


    "Alright, everyone go back to your guests. Don''t just stand here and be a spectacle," Emma said, then turned and walked toward the guest rooms.


    Inside one of the guest rooms.


    Yvonne was lying on the bed, curled up in pain.


    Her body was burning up, a sensation somewhere between pain and numbness that was pure agony. Her difficulty breathing had turned her face a ghastly, white, and beads: of sweat stered her hair to her forehead.


    The Thompson family had a private doctor.


    He rushed in with his medical bag. Bet, his face a mask of anxiety, ordered him to examine Yvonne immediately.


    The doctor had never seen the young heir look so tense, anxious, and even terrified. He didn''t dare waste a second and began his examination.


    "It''s a food allergy. Anyter and she would have gone into anaphctic shock," the doctor said, putting away his stethoscope and pulling an injectable antihistamine and a disposable syringe from his bag.


    After the doctor gave Yvonne the injection, the color began to return to her face, and


    her breathing finally eased.


    But she was still miserable and couldn''t open her eyes.


    Yvonne''s hand clutched at the cor of her dress. The difort was so intense that tears streamed from the corners of her eyes, tracing paths down her pale cheeks. She looked


    helpless and pitiful.


    to''


    In her hazy consciousness, she felt a cool hand gently wipe the tears from her face,


    then rest on her forehead. The cool touch was strangelyforting.


    Yvonne instinctively grabbed the hand, pressing it to her cheek and then her heart, letting out a soft sigh of relief.